


Seen It All

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, i have a weakness for grantaire playing musical instruments, i wrote this in one day and the lack of characters shows that, this is pretty much a gratuitous banjo fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Enjolras laughs and pushes it gently away, back towards Courf. “No, I couldn’t. I’m busier now more than ever. Besides, I’d need a teacher. And who do you know who actually plays the banjo?”“I do.” a voice says, and Enjolras jumps and whips around to find a smiling Grantaire. He can already feel his cheeks heating up. His body is a traitor.“Oh, um…” He can’t. I can’t, he wants to say, because I've spent the last month and a half realizing how nice your face is and what a kind person you are and how much your laugh makes me want to kiss you. I can’t, because if you teach me to play a musical instrument and I have to be alone in close proximity to you I might do something stupid, like kiss you till there’s no room to breathe.“I’m really busy.” he says instead, lamely. “But...I’ll think about it?”





	Seen It All

**Author's Note:**

> You know that age-old saying, write the fic you want to see in the world?
> 
> So. I'm pretty much in love with the idea of a musically talented Grantaire, and as a banjo player, picturing my boy absolutely shredding it on this weird instrument is one of my greatest joys. 
> 
> I don't know why Enjolras has always wanted to play the banjo, just go with it haha. 
> 
> Also, there's this beautiful video of the musician Maxl Walmsley-Pledl playing "Timber" on the banjo and if it's not the most Grantaire thing you've ever seen I don't know what to tell you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmqPLFCUAzU (side note: i'm maybe a little bit in love with Maxl Walmsley-Pledl)
> 
> Title from one of Maxl's songs of the same name :)

Enjolras sighs as he shoves the last box onto the dusty top shelf. The dim light coming through the windows makes the dust particles in the air dance before his eyes as he claps his hands together. He’s always thought there’s an odd sort of beauty to be found in dimly lit rooms, especially as the golden hour light floods the storage closet from the singular tall window. It’s quiet in here. It’s a nice respite after a busy day at the garage sale fundraiser for the local orphanage he and the rest of Les Amis have volunteered at all day. 

The quiet doesn’t last for long. The door to the storage closet swings open, allowing a grinning Courfreyac to step inside. He’s holding what appears to be a banjo.

“Ah, Enjolras! There you are. They want us to gather in the lobby, they’ve bought us donuts as a thank you!”

Enjolras smiles back at his friend. “Nice of them. I’ll come along with you, then. Nice banjo.”

Courf hums as he strums it. It’s dreadfully out of tune. “Thank you. It was one of the items left over after the sale.” They begin to walk together toward the lobby. “I can’t believe no one bought it. These things are pricey!”

Enj reaches out to touch the instrument. It looks old, worn with age, and he just now notices one of the strings is missing. “You know, when I was little I wanted to learn to play the banjo so badly. I begged my mother for a while there, but then I got involved in some school things and forgot completely about it.”

Courf is suddenly shoving the banjo towards him. “Take it, then. I’m sure they’ll let you have it. It’s never too late to achieve your childhood dreams, Enj!” 

Enjolras laughs and pushes it gently away, back towards Courf. “No, I couldn’t. I’m busier now more than ever. Besides, I’d need a teacher. And who do you know who actually plays the banjo?”

“I do.” a voice says, and Enjolras jumps and whips around to find a smiling Grantaire. He can already feel his cheeks heating up. His body is a traitor.

“Of course you do.” scoffs Courf. “Grantaire, you talented little booger, you play every instrument known to man.”

Grantaire make a face, brushing a stray dark curl behind his ear. “Oh, not quite. I’m still working on the accordion. But, banjo, I can play that. Do you want to learn?” he looks at Enjolras earnestly, his blue eyes sparkling, and Enjolras finds it hard to breathe. 

“Oh, um…” He can’t. I can’t, he wants to say, because I've spent the last month and a half realizing how nice your face is and what a kind person you are and how much your laugh makes me want to kiss you. I can’t, because if you teach me to play a musical instrument and I have to be alone in close proximity to you I might do something stupid, like kiss you till there’s no room to breathe. 

“I’m really busy.” he says instead, lamely. “But...I’ll think about it?”

Grantaire smiles at him and nods. “Ok. Well, let me know. I’m always willing.” And with that he turns and walks away, back towards where Bahorel is attempting to shove a fifth donut into his mouth as Feuilly cheers him on. He’s already lending his voice in cheerful support before he even sits down.

And that’s something Enjolras loves about Grantaire. His support of their friends, and not just in stupid donut endeavors, but in the important things. And the unimportant things. He always has a kind word to give and a supportive hand to lend. Enjolras has lost track of the times Grantaire has shown up at his apartment because he’s giving Courf a ride somewhere, or is bringing Combeferre some congratulatory gluten-free cookies, or has a bowl of soup for an overworked Enjolras. He tireless in the love he gives his friends, and Enjolras is in awe of it. He’s in awe of Grantaire in general. 

Enjolras is jarred out of his Grantaire-watching-reverie by Courf’s sharp elbow poking him in the side. He’s looking up at him, grinning wickedly.

“You’re fucked, huh?”

Enjolras groans and rubs a hand along his flushed face. “Completely.”

He takes the banjo with him when he leaves.

+

Enjolras can’t be blamed for his weakness for strawberries. Even in Autumn, they remind him of sunshine and picnics with his friends, and it just so happens that the local weekly street fair sells the best strawberries he’s ever had in his life every friday. He’s making his way through the crowds now, towards Enrique, the owner of the Hernandez Produce stand. 

It’s a lovely evening, the sun just beginning to set, and Enjolras is glad to be outside after a long day at the law firm. He buys his strawberries quickly, exchanging small pleasantries with Enrique, then turns back into the throng of the crowd.

He usually goes straight home, he’s never been past the first block of the fair, never any further than it takes to get to Enrique’s stand. But tonight feels different. Tonight, it’s lovely to be outside and to maybe have some room to breathe and think for once. He passes laughing children and small clusters of giggling teenagers and so, so many couples. And of course his thoughts turn towards Grantaire. It’s not unusual, at this point.

At the meeting last night, Grantaire had helped him clean up some of the chairs afterwards, stacking them back against the wall. He’d asked how work was going and had listened attentively as Enjolras launched into a tirade about the new computer program that kept lagging and how tired of it he was.

“It sounds like you could use a break.” he’d said. “Thank god it’s almost the weekend. You should come to the movie night-” he’d paused at the guilty look on Enjolras’s face. “Good lord, Apollo, are you really working the weekend as well?”

“It’s an important case.” Enjolras protested. “I just want to review some things and make sure I’m truly prepared for the next meeting.”

“Mhm.” Grantaire nodded. “And who else is working this weekend to prepare the case?”

“Well...no one. But it’s an important case-”

And then Grantaire had made his brain short circuit by grabbing both of his hands in his broad, warm ones. “You’re important too, Enjolras. You’ll work better if you take some time for yourself. Take a break this weekend. See what it does for you.” He’d laughed as he let go of Enjolras hands, and turned to grab a broom. Enjolras was grateful his brown skin made blushes hard to detect, because he could feel one hell of a flush on his face. “You know, you’d make a wonderful disney princess.”

Enjolras blinked. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“Have you seen Princess and the Frog? It’s all about a girl who has dreams and works hard, but forgets to take care of herself and loosen up a little along the way.”

Enjolras had frowned. “Are you saying I need to loosen up?”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him. “No. I’m saying your selfless, and smart, and kind, and you’re suspect to giving more of yourself to a cause than is advisable. You always have been. And you’re amazing, believe me.” he thrusts a broom into Enjolras’s hands. “But Apollo, I might turn you into a frog myself if it meant I could get you take even a 5 minute break.”

Enjolras had harrumphed as he’d turned to begin sweeping the floor, a small smile on his lips. He and Grantaire had spent the rest of the evening deciding which of their friends was which disney character, and he’d left later that evening with an invite to a movie night and a realization that he’d fallen a lot harder than he’d previously thought.

So it’s not hard, as he watches couples walk by, hand in hand and laughing together, to feel a strange yearning in his chest that hurts, a little bit. But he plunges deeper into the fair, not yet ready to go home and be cooped up indoors again. Grantaire was right. He did need a break. So he presses onwards, stopping to look at some of the merchandise and even buying some locally made tea for Jehan, who’s a bit of a tea fanatic.

He hears him before he sees him, the swells of a folksy bluegrass song reaching him through the crowd. He meanders towards it, only half paying attention, until the distinct notes of a banjo join the song and he whips his head towards the band. And it’s him, of course it’s him. 

Grantaire sits in the middle of a small group, eyes dancing as he plays along. His hands move impossibly fast up and down the neck of the banjo. He’s watching a group of children who are dancing along to the music as he plays, and laughing at their wild spins and foot stomping. Enjolras is entranced. 

Grantaire has beautiful hands, he’s known that for a while, but it’s something else entirely to watch him play the banjo. He never really gets to see Grantaire play any sort of musical instrument, he doesn’t exactly bring his guitar to meetings or his keyboard to group hangouts. So he relishes this opportunity. He watches the ease with which he plays and admires the line of his neck as it arches over his instrument. There are fairy lights strung above and they shine beautifully off of his tan skin. Enjolras doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath until Grantaire opens his mouth to begin singing and he loses it all over again.

His voice is like honey poured over an earthquake. Not that that makes any sense. Enjolras’s brain isn’t working well anyways, at the moment.

Grantaire sees him about halfway through the song. His eyes widen a little in surprise, but he recovers quickly, flashing a smile in Enjolras' direction and continuing with the song. Enjolras snaps his mouth closed and tries to smile back. He wants to crawl inside Grantaire’s voice and live there forever.

The song ends eventually, the final notes of the banjo dying out into the darkening sky, and Grantaire smiles modestly at the applause the large crowd gives them. Enjolras hadn’t even noticed the amount of people that had gathered around the band, no doubt pulled in just as he had been by R’s incredible voice. He adds his own applause, and watches as Grantaire grabs the microphone in front of his face and laughs as someone wolf whistles.

“Thank you all so much. Let’s hear it for our little dancers as well!” he gestures to the group of children who are still hopping up and down, even without music, in front of the band’s setup. The crowd cheers again, and Grantaire brushes his hair out of his eyes. Enjolras tracks his movement, almost involuntarily. 

“We’re gonna be playing 4 more songs and then finishing up for the night. Please, stick around! We’d love to have you here.”

He looks directly at Enjolras as he says this last part, and if Enjolras shivers a little bit, he’s not sure he can blame the crisp fall air.

He sticks around. Of course he does. As if he could leave. While he watches the band and blushes every time Grantaire catches his eye, he suddenly remembers Grantaire’s offer to teach him the banjo. He’d completely forgotten about it after he’d set the banjo down in his living room last saturday, too swept up in work to give it any more thought. 

So when Grantaire and his band have finished and thanked the crowd and are beginning to pack up, Enjolras makes a beeline straight for Grantaire, waiting impatiently behind the group of people who are waiting to compliment him on his performance. When he finally makes it up to him, Grantaire already has a smile waiting for him.

“Apollo! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I want you to teach me to play the banjo.”

Grantaire blinks. “What?”

“I mean- I’m sorry. Um, you played wonderfully, you have an incredible voice. And if the offer is still on the table...I’d love to learn. The banjo, I mean. From you.”

Grantaire looks at him. “Of course the offer is still on the table. I’d love to teach you.”

Enjolras nods. “Ok. Ok, um.” He curses himself silently. He’s a talented speaker, he can make his words move and inspire people, but Grantaire seems to have a special ability to turn him into a stumbling mess. “I’m free...Saturday night? Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night is movie night.”

“Oh, right. Are you free before movie night? I can come a little bit early.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Does 5 sound ok?”

Enjolras nods again, so enthusiastically a blond curl falls into his eyes and he has to swipe it away. “Yes. Yeah.”

“Great. So, tomorrow, at 5, at my place?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

“Great. Um, see you then?”

Grantaire is smiling again. “See you then, Apollo.”

Enjolras turns to walk away, then stops and turns back to Grantaire. “You really were amazing. You’re really talented, I love your voice. I’ve never heard you sing before, but it was- I mean, you- you’re amazing.”

And then he breaks off, back into the crowd, before Grantaire can hear how loudly his heart is pounding, probably even over the noise of the passing crowd. God. He has to know, right? He has to know that Enjolras is head over heels for him. And if he doesn’t, he’s sure as hell gonna know when he’s up in Enjolras’s personal space, teaching him the banjo for god’s sake, and….and Enjolras is so screwed. He groans and runs a hand through his hair. So, so screwed.

+

He has the banjo restrung and has dusted it off and tuned it by the time 5 rolls around. The man at the music store he’d taken it to had whistled, turning the instrument over in his hands. “This is a really nice model you have here. Take care of her, you hear?”

Enjolras had smiled and nodded, then made his way to the apartment Grantaire shares with the JBM trio with sweaty hands and a rapid heart beat. 

He almost doesn’t knock on the door, he’s so nervous, but he finally builds up his confidence enough to rap lightly on the door. The door swings open almost immediately, and a wild-haired Grantaire pokes his head out to look at him.

“Enjolras! Come on in.”

Enjolras does so. Their apartment is surprisingly spacious, and the 4 of them have done a wonderful job of making it an inviting, cozy place. He supposes that’s Bossuet’s doing, the man has always had an eye for good interior design.

They have a soft orange couch against one wall, and Grantaire heads that way, picking up his own banjo that he’d left lying there. It’s then that Enjolras notices that their usually tidy living room is a bit cluttered with musical instruments. There’s a guitar and a keyboard and what looks like a conga drum in one corner, and a saxaphone on the coffee table, and a huge bass laid carefully in it’s open case taking up a lot of room on the floor. There’s also an accordian that Grantaire picks up from the opposite end of the couch, making room for Enjolras to sit down.

“You can sit here. That’s a beautiful banjo, by the way.”

Enjolras smiles as he sits. “So I’ve been told. I hope I’ll be able to do her justice, someday. Maybe in 10 years or so.”

Grantaire laughs. “Maybe so. Baby steps, right?”

“Baby steps.” Enjolras agrees. “Where’s the terrible threesome, by the way?”

Grantaire waves a hand. “Out securing pizza and drinks for the movie night. Oh, and the movie. You’ll stick around for that, right?”

As if he’d say no to time with Grantaire.

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to watch Stardust for the longest while anyways.”

Grantaire gapes at him. “You mean you’ve never seen Stardust before? You’ve never been treated to a young Charlie Cox with a sword and a long coat?” He chuckles at the grim shake of Enjolras’s head. “Well, you’re in for a treat then. I’ve always had a thing for men with long hair and dark eyes-” he coughs suddenly, and Enjolras catches a redness of his cheeks before he ducks his head down towards his banjo.” Um. Anyways, have you ever taken music lessons before?”

Enjolras shrugs. “A bit. I took piano for 3 years in middle school, but I remember almost none of that.”

“That’s fine. Well, we can start with some basic music theory then.”

And that’s what they do. Grantaire explains chords and scales and triads, and Enjolras listens attentively. They practice forming a few of the chords, and for all the many many times Enjolras stumbles over the finger positions, Grantaire is patient in his corrections. He doesn’t make Enjolras feel stupid when he doesn’t get the easy things right away, and he doesn’t mind explaining things more than once.

He’d be a wonderful teacher, if it wasn’t for the fact that Enjolras was so hopelessly distracted by everything he did. He sits close to Enjolras the whole time, their knees brushing a few times. Enjolras has a much better view of his amazing hands from here, and Grantaire even reaches out sometimes to fix his finger positioning and the brush of his fingertips just about kills Enjolras.

Within 45 minutes he’s got a basic bum-ditty down and can follow along with the rhythmic tapping of Grantaire’s feet. Grantaire hums, pleased with his progress, then begins to shuffle the papers he’s been writing the chords on together.

“Alright, that’s probably enough for today. You’re already doing really well!”

Enjolras smiles. “I’ve got a wonderful teacher. By the way, how much do I owe you?”

Grantaire narrows his eyes at him. “If you think you’re paying me for this, you’re wrong.”

“Hang on,” Enjolras protests, “I don’t want to take advantage of your time and talent like that. Let me pay you.”

“Absolutely not.” Grantaire stands up. “I enjoy spending time with you, Apollo. That’s payment enough for me.”

“I-” Enjolras suddenly finds himself at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to make of that.

“If you want to pay me, you can help me put all these instruments back in my room before the rest of the group gets here. I made a bit of a mess when JBM left. I don’t get a lot of opportunities to practice without them getting annoyed by my terrible playing.”

Enjolras snorts and raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, fine. But I have a hard time believing that your playing can be described as anything close to terrible.” 

Grantaire waggles his eyebrows at him. “You haven’t heard me play the accordion, dear Apollo.”

“No, but...I’d like to.”

Grantaire pauses zipping up his banjo case. “What?”

“I mean… I’d really like to hear you play. Anything, pretty much. Or everything. I like watching you play.” He knows he’s stammering, he knows he’s blushing. Godammit.

But when Grantaire takes a moment to respond, he risks looking up from the floor to look at him, and he finds that Grantaire is blushing too. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’d love to play for you.”

+

When Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta come bursting into the apartment not long after, it’s to find a blushing Grantaire singing and strumming a guitar as Enjolras sits and watches him with something close to adoration on his face.

+

“He likes you, you know.” Joly says to Enjolras, patting his shoulder as he walks by him on the staircase leading up to the apartment.

Enjolras stares. “Um, sorry?”

Joly sighs and turns around to face Enjolras. “He likes you. He. Grantaire. You know, Mr. music guy?”

When Enjolras doesn’t respond, just stares, Joly sighs and reaches out to take his hand.

“Enjolras. I have eyes, I have ears, and it’s bad enough that I have to watch you watch him during every single Les Amis meeting. But I also have to LIVE with him. So. Because both of you are incredibly oblivious, and because I’m a patient man but even I can only take so much, I’m just going to fill you in a little bit. He likes you.”

Enjolras blinks rapidly. His mouth makes inaudible movements until he’s finally able to get a word out. “What.”

Joly look at him, concern in his eyes. “Oh my god. I just wanted to give you some friendly encouragement, not break you.” He grasps Enjolras’s hands tighter. “Be brave, little butterfly. Flap your wings and ask the boy out. To quote my good friend ABBA, take a chance!”

Enjolras sill doesn’t respond, just looks vaguely shell-shocked, so Joly gives him one last pat on the shoulder and says, “Well, I have to go! I’m meeting Boss and Chetta for dinner. Don’t be late for your lesson!” and then he’s gone.

Enjolras is late, because he spends the next 7 minutes standing, barely breathing, in the hallway before he’s able to move. He knocks the door in a daze, and only comes to when Grantaire opens the door wearing a dark green v-neck that shows way too much collar bone for Enjolras’s sanity. 

“Apollo! I was getting worried. Come in. Did you practice?”

“I did.” he responds, a little breathlessly. Grantaire likes him.

“Good. We can move on to actually playing some songs, then.”

So they do. The progress is slow, and Enjolras is maybe just short of perfectly atrocious at playing the banjo, but it’s fun, too. Grantaire makes him laugh and compliments him freely. Enjolras is beginning to notice that maybe Grantaire reaches out to touch him more than is strictly necessary, and that sometimes he looks at him almost shyly through his long black lashes, and it makes his heart stutter. So. So, maybe Joly was right.

He has no idea what to do about it.

+

It becomes a thing. He goes to Grantaire for a lesson, and then afterwards he sits and watches him play an instrument. He favors his guitar the most, and sometimes he sings as well. Enjolras loves when he sings.

He can see it now, now that Joly has pointed it out. The times their eyes meet and there’s an electric charge between them. The way Grantaire always looks at him first after making a joke when they’re with their friends. The way they always somehow end up sitting next to each other, whether at a meeting or while simply hanging out. 

The thing is, Enjolras has never done this before. He wants this, with Grantaire, he wants it so bad it aches in his chest. But he’s also maybe a little bit terrified of messing things up, which is new. He’s not usually one to be terrified of anything. But Grantaire is something else entirely, and Enjolras wants everything surrounding him to be perfect.

He learns more about Grantaire as they spend more time together. He learns just how many instruments he plays (25!!!), he learns that Grantaire is in 3 casual bands that get together just to have fun playing at least once a week, and that Grantaire writes his own music. He learns about Grantaire’s 2 younger sisters whom he loves dearly, and of the year long struggle Grantaire had becoming sober. He learns about Grantaire’s incredible art work, something beyond the posters he normally designs for Les Amis. They talk and they laugh and he learns. He learns and he learns and he loves.

He tells Grantaire all about his own life as well. Falling into their friendship is so easy. They talk about anything and everything, and Enjolras finds that loving Grantaire is the simple part. It’s the telling him that has him tripping up.

In the meantime, he improves in his playing and he thanks all the patron gods of the banjo for the time that it gives him with Grantaire.

+

He’s pretty sure, by now, that Grantaire likes him too. Which is why it’s such a shock when he walks up to where Grantaire is talking with Eponine after a meeting to hear her asking, “So how’s the song/love confession coming along?”

“Love confession?” Enjolras asks, faltering. He looks at Eponine. “What do you mean?”

Eponine’s head whips around, eyes wide. “Um. The love confession song that Grantaire is writing for...someone. Ow.” She says as Grantaire steps on her foot.

Enjolras looks at Grantaire, a little confused. “Really? How lucky for them, I’ve heard some of your originals. They’re lovely. Who’s it for?”

Grantaire looks at him with a blank face. “Someone I've been playing music with for a while now.” he says easily.

“One of his bandmates! In his, um, in the folk band he’s in” Eponine supplies.

And with that Enjolras feels his heart fall.

“Hm. Well. That’s wonderful news. That’s really...that’s really lucky for them. Um, I have to go.” 

And with that he turns and leaves, rushing out of the door of the cafe Musain before anyone can stop him. He hears Grantaire calling after him as he goes, but he ignores him, ignores how obvious he’s being. He tries to blink away the tears in his eyes.

How could he have been so stupid? Grantaire was a naturally kind, loving person. Those looks, those touches, they’d meant nothing. They’d just been becoming closer as friends. That was all. God, he’d been riding a false high for over a month now. Worrying about how to confess his feelings when they would have been denied all along anyways. At least he knows now, he thinks, wiping a tear away with his hand. At least he hadn’t confessed and he’s saved himself the embarrassment of rejection and a potentially ruined friendship. It still stings, though.

He’s halfway through his walk home when a hand reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

“Christ, Enjolras, wait!”

He turns around quickly. There stands Grantaire, out of breath and curls askew in every direction. Enjolras wipes his eyes again and tries to still his trembling lip. Maybe he won't be spared the embarrassment then. Great.

“What.”

“God, you walk fast. Are you alright?”

Enjolras looks at him, his eyes filling with tears again. “I’m fine.” He says, and hates his voice for the way it cracks.

“Ok, no you’re not. God, this is not how I wanted this to go.”

Enjolras feels something tighten in his chest. “What, your rejection of me? Because I feel like I just made a complete idiot of myself, so if you could spare me any other embarrassment and leave now, we can pretend this didn’t happen. Because I'm not having a great time right now.”

Grantaire makes a frustrated noise. “No, that’s not what I meant. Enjolras, what Eponine said isn’t true. She just panicked”

Enjolras just looks at him. “What?”

Grantaire runs a hand through his hair. It’s something he does when he’s nervous, Enjolras knows. God, of course he’d know that. “I mean- yes. Yeah, I was writing a song for someone. It was supposed to be a big love confession of sorts. But it’s not for someone in my band.”

Enjolras feels his heart start to move again. “Then who is it for?”

Grantaire licks his lips. “For someone amazing. Someone who, like I said, I’ve been playing with for a while now. He’s smart and he’s funny and he laughs at my bad jokes and puts up with the dumb nickname I gave him. He’s beautiful, god, he’s beautiful. I’ve liked him for a really long time and I’ve been getting to know him better recently and it’s just made me fall even harder for him. He asked me to teach him to play the banjo, of all things. He’s a great leader and a great friend and I've just been working up the courage to tell him all this for, like, a month now. And I had this whole thing planned, like, I was gonna sing to him and there was maybe gonna be me making him dinner involved? And lots of accidental hand touching, god, you have no idea how many times Iwas going to accidentally touch his hands-”

“Grantaire.” Enjolras says, and he’s smiling again. “Grantaire, I think I’m in love with you.”

Grantaire’s hands freeze in midair, where he’d been using them to gesture wildly as he spoke, and he stares at Enjolras as if in a daze. “You. What.”

Enjolras smile widens. “Grantaire. I think I’m in love with you.”

Grantaire makes a noise, deep in the back of his throat, and suddenly his hands are in Enjolras’s hair and his impossibly blue eyes are drawing nearer and he has to stand a little bit on his tippy toes and oh- and then his mouth is on Enjolras’s and it takes nothing for Enjolras to simple melt into him.

His lips are a little bit chapped and the kiss is a little bit messy, but it’s perfect. The tip of Grantaire’s nose is cool against Enjolras’s skin but his mouth is warm, especially as he licks his way inside to Enjolras’s own mouth. There’s a moan that escapes Enjolras, but it’s quickly swallowed down by Grantaire as his hands move down for a firmer grip around Enjolras’s waist. Enjolras’s own hands find themselves buried in the soft hair at the nape of Grantaire’s neck. They’re in the middle of a sidewalk at 9pm but all Enjolras can think about is how to get Grantaire closer, closer.

That wasn’t so hard, after all.

Grantaire pulls away too quickly, and Enjolras can’t help when his head chases him as he draws away, frowning at the loss.

“Holy shit,” breathes Grantaire, “holy shit, Enjolras, was that ok? I mean, sorry, I really like you. Scratch that, I think I love you too.”

Enjolras laughs, feeling breathless. Feeling like he’s flying. “Grantaire. You wrote me a song?”

Grantaire nods. Their faces are so close that his curls brush Enjolras’s face at the motion. “I did. Do you want to hear it?”

“”More than anything. Actually, almost more than anything. I want to hear my song, Grantaire, but first-” he looks down into Grantaire’s eyes and smiles shyly. “Will you please, please kiss me again?”

Grantaire happily complies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love my boys. 
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr at birtsby.tumblr.com . I am always, always down to talk about Les Mis.


End file.
